


Under a Rolling Thunder

by Bajni



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Laketown, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bajni/pseuds/Bajni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before the departure from Laketown to Erebor Bilbo finds Thorin looking towards the Lonely Mountain. They stare into the distance together. Character study focused on Thorin. Bagginshield</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under a Rolling Thunder

The wind is cold on Bilbo’s face as he walks onto a wooden deck, built far into the lake. The horizon is obscured by a solitary mountain raising over the distant surface of the water, but the hobbit’s eyes are fixed on a different form, barely visible in the faint moonlight seeping through the thick clouds racing above.

Thorin doesn’t hear him approach but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect him to come. It’s their last night in Laketown before the departure into the final stage of the quest.

He doesn’t acknowledge the hobbit’s presence, pretends not to notice when he buries his small hand in his left and tangles their fingers together. Bilbo’s palm is cool against his skin, but quickly warms up, adjusting to the dwarf’s temperature. Thorin keeps his gaze steadily forward, acting as if his mind was turning only for his home of old, which he barely remembers through the fog of years. He doesn’t let his eyes flicker to the left, knowing that as a leader he can’t show even the slightest hint of vulnerability.

“Your home.. How does it feel..seeing it again, I mean?” – Bilbo lets the question hung in the air. Thorin raises his right hand with a pipe he had almost forgotten about, but after noticing it’s still burning he catches it between his lips and inhales deeply. The smoke is like a sharp blade in his throat, scraping its way towards his lungs. But he doesn’t let it escape until he feels the familiar light-headedness. He had never favoured making smoke circles so he lets the gray cloud erupt from his nostrils.

Bilbo shifts a bit impatiently beside him and Thorin hands him his pipe, knowing the hobbit has lost his own during the barrel ride. He can hear Bilbo inhale in time with himself.

“There was never much hope for this quest,” – the dwarf replies finally, allowing himself to show the hobbit a glimpse of his true self. He deserves so much more, but it’s all Thorin can bestow upon him now. “However, it is my legacy. I have to reclaim it,” – he pauses for a second, taking the pipe from Bilbo’s outstretched hand and inhaling the smoke into his lungs. His sapphire-blue eyes trail back towards the Lonely Mountain looming in the north.

“Or perish trying,” - the prince’s words are accompanied by smoke lazily slipping out of his mouth.

Bilbo doesn’t know if it’s a trick of his pulse thudding in his ears but Thorin’s voice, even though quieter, seems much deeper. He suppresses a shudder and locks his eyes on the dwarf’s, which are burning with a sudden emotion under slowly furrowing brows.

“It enrages me to think of my ancestors’ wealth buried under that foul worm,” – Thorin nearly growls and his hand clenches painfully around the hobbit’s. His body trembles with hardly concealed anger, yet when minutes pass and not a word is uttered the dwarf’s features soften and his tense shoulders slump.

“Yet, it is not what troubles me most.”

The clouds above them race southward, bringing darkness from the north. There is a distant flash in the north-west, but the ground does not yet shudder under its wrath.

“What is it, then?” – when Thorin’s hand remains clasped tightly around Bilbo’s, the hobbit caresses his calloused skin with his thumb until the clutch becomes bearable.

Thorin sighs and doesn’t allow his eyes to turn towards his companion, even though his whole consciousness screams at him to do it.

“The dragon is too strong and sneaky,” _and I am too weak –_ Thorin inhales deeply and shakes out the ashes from the pipe, then hides it somewhere in the folds of his coat.

“The creature is familiar with dwarf and human scent. That’s why you’re our only option,” _which I’ll never allow._

Bilbo gulps audibly, but never ceases making the caressing circles with his thumb.

“But I’m afraid, Mister Burglar, even you are not good enough to take on that particular dragon.” _I’m not going to let you die due to my foolish decisions._

The hobbit frowns and tenses – “Thorin, you know I ca-“

“Stop. Allow me to finish,” _–_ the dwarf interrupts him in harsh voice. His blue orbs finally focus on the hobbit, but his features are grim more than anything else from what Bilbo can tell.

He detangles his fingers for the hobbit’s. There can be heard a distant thunder, as the dark clouds float towards Erebor.

Bilbo doesn’t understand it when a pang of pain hits his heart at the gesture.

“I have not yet found a way, but I am certain once we reach the mountain I will find an alternative, so you won’t have to-”

“Thorin, listen. There is no alte-”

The dwarf catches him by the shoulders and Bilbo can see in his contorted expression how he struggles to not release his anger. His voice sounds almost desperate, but the hobbit can’t tell, never having witnessed the prince in such a state.

“I will not allow myself to lose-” – he pauses and Bilbo can feel his fingers dig into his arms.

“The only chance I have of reclaiming my homeland,” – he utters finally and turns away from the hobbit.

Bilbo’s words die on his tongue when a deafening thunder rolls above them and the first drops of rain hit the surface of the Long Lake, jingling sadly. He lets the freezing, early winter rain soak through his clothes and wet the short braid behind his ear.

The cold is thankfully numbing and when Thorin catches his hand in his, the hobbit can barely feel his body heat.

“I am sorry I let out my anger on you,” – his voice whispers into Bilbo’s ear as he lets himself be pulled into an embrace.

“You have to understand, as a leader I can’t allow myself to make such mistakes that could result in my companions getting into danger.”

The dwarf pulls back enough so that he is face to face with the hobbit, yet his arms remain in place.

Bilbo rises one eyebrow but restraints himself from mentioning Mirkwood or the passage in the Misty Mountains, - “I was HIRED to take risk. There were even bloody funeral arrangements mentioned in the contract.”

“Things have changed,” – Thorin says confidently. The water drips down his face and Bilbo suddenly realizes he can’t tell if there are any tears mixed with rain.

“I am not keen on pertaining with the dragon either but there’s no other choice. Unless you will abandon this quest and try finding happiness in a more sedate life,” – the hobbit smiles at him softly and Thorin has to look away to suppress the sudden urge to devour those wet-with-rain lips.

“I can’t. ”

“Then I can’t break my contract. And please, don’t argue.” – he says when the dwarf’s brows furrow, - “if you find an alternative I’ll gladly consider it.”

“Bilbo,” – Thorin lets his hand travel into wet curls, where it buries itself, - “I don’t deserve you.”

Bilbo is startled by the statement, but a grin finds its way onto his face, - “You silly dwarf.”

He climbs onto his tiptoes and leaves a gentle peck on the prince’s lips. Despite the cold he feels his cheeks burn at the recently learned sign of affection towards the dwarf.

Erebor casts its dark shadow upon them, but all that counts at the moment is the bright spark, that came to life in their hearts. And even though the future looms above them in blacks, Bilbo hopes, BELIEVES, the mountain will not strip them from the new-found happiness.


End file.
